Diamonds to Dust, Dust to Ashes
by District11-Olive
Summary: Our children killed other children, you made it so we could never trust each other. But the prospect of freedom overcame the iron grip you had taken on us. We overcame it, and now the Capitol must own up to the pain you have caused in my people, their families, and their children. Punishment must be dealt so that we can ensure nothing like this will ever happen again to my people.
1. Prologue

It's been weeks now since President Snow's execution. The Capitol is scared. My family is scared. _I _am scared.

The districts hate us. The new President hates us. Katniss Everdeen hates us.

We are going to be punished. That much is inevitable. Just weeks have passed and the district people have already taken over our television screens. The scream into cameras and microphones, they curse the Capitol and all we stand for. Parents proclaim the unfairness of their child's death in what they say we called entertainment. They yell profanities at us for crimes we never meant or knew to commit.

Travel between the districts is no longer prohibited. They are here, thousands of them. They seek revenge, they yell obscenities in our streets and destroy anything and everything they come across. We are scared to leave our homes. My brother, Alcander, tells me there have been murders, violence. Father denies it, he tells us they would not hurt us but Alcander says he knows they would.

I heard screams last night. They were so near that I think they came from the building across the street from ours. All of us heard them, I counted at least three different voices. Father told us to stay in the backroom and we did. For two days I hold my eleven year old sister Lisette as she cries herself into fitful sleeps as Alcander writes in his journal and Father keeps his eyes glued to the television screen. Listening to the stories of people that give fuel to the hatred of my people through their long withheld grief.

On the first night, I cover Listette's eyes as the television shows us one of the housing buildings being set aflame. The screams of my people are just barely audible over the roar of the flames. A woman jumps from her high story home with closed eyes and my own eyes fly shut. Alcander begs Father to turn off the broadcast but he does not respond, eyes even with the sickening image. Alcander snatches the remote from his shaking hands and the screen flashes to darkness along with the dim lighting of the room. The fitful murmurs of my family prevent sleep from claiming me as the screams and flames envelop my mind. That night I do not sleep.

Light fades in from the high windows and slowly my family awakens. We do not speak, for fears that the district people will choose our building next. We do not move for fear that the floor may fall from under our feet into a hungry cove of fire. Instead we wait, Father hands us packages of food so that even our stomachs make no sound. I do not feel hunger, but I eat so that there will be something to busy my mouth lest I try to speak and bring forth discussion none of us wish to partake in.

Father turns on the television and activates an earpiece for each of us. I take one for myself and one for Lisette, delicately fitting hers onto her tiny ear before fastening my own. I prepare myself for what might be shown; another building on fire, floods from torn water pipes, a half-hearted case study of a murder they never tried to prevent. This time, though, when the television screen flickers to life I do not see any of this. Instead I see the familiar scene of the front of the President's mansion. My heart leaps out to the screen, remembering the declaration of war that came just months ago from the lips of our beloved President Snow. The memory is not even one of pleasantry, but rather familiarity. The President was a symbol of Panem's prosperity, so long as he was present and well we knew everything was alright. We knew that anything that could harm us would be swiftly dealt with and in that we found peace.

A figure comes into view from behind the white doors and every ounce of calm inside of me has vanished. It is not the aged white hair of our great President but a different one. The name hits me like a bullet of grief, President Coin. The replacement for our deceased leader, and the one who has allowed all of this to happen.

"Good morning citizens of Panem. I come to you today with what I believe will be the end of turmoil between the districts of Panem and the Capitol. The Hunger Games ended many months ago, but with it did not bring the peace that was expected. Instead came civil war, unrest within our nation. I now stand before you to offer a solution to bring peace and prosperity to Panem once more. A committee of surviving past Victors has been hard at work to develop a solution. To deliver this verdict, I present to you Katniss Everdeen of District Thirteen," President Coin's voice remains calm and even, eyes flashing up to us at the proper intervals. No one moves from within the crowd before her, no sound comes even as her bony frame steps away from her podium and a familiar face appears in her place.

No one could mistake the distinct appearance of the one the districts have nicknamed "The Mockingjay". She was a celebrity during her two consecutive years as tribute, but now has become spited for her role in destroying the people who adored her. The rebels of District Thirteen stole her away from us, corrupted her to despise us and everything we stand for. Turned something that we had moulded into a beautiful creature into a monster that would stop at nothing to destroy us all. Driven by a revenge that should never have even been thought of.

She wears the signature jumpsuit costume that has become infamous among my people. Black and white, arms that look like elegant wings. Brown hair braided to mark her as the star crossed lover that no one can forget. Nothing else but her hair is the same as when she was a tribute, even her face seems to have hardened. Grey eyes stare into the camera remind me that she is indeed a monster. That she is the one that fuelled the rebellion that killed so many of my people and hers as well. What more could they possibly have asked from us? We protect them, govern them, and force them into prosperity that they would never know without the Capitol's guidance. The only thing they had to pay was their loyalty, and a small insurance fee. Two tributes once a year for a showing of solidarity. A reminder that we are indeed powerful but yet we do not destroy them. A showing of mercy that we allow one to live in luxury for the rest of their days. They could not pay the price of perfection, and now all of us must suffer. Both through whatever "solution" this monster has decided upon and through the prosperity that we will never again see. Everything had been perfect, and now it was anything but.

"For seventy-five years the Capitol forced twenty-four district children to fight to the death in the name of entertainment. For seventy-five years children had to live in fear for their own lives and those of their friends and siblings. Early, unfair executions each year at the hands of the Capitol. Worse yet, the Capitol created enemies between districts, so that we would never come together to fight for our freedom. Our children killed other children, you made it so we could never trust each other. But the prospect of freedom overcame the iron grip you had taken on us. We overcame it, and now the Capitol must own up to the pain you have caused in my people, their families, and their children. Punishment must be dealt so that we can ensure nothing like this will ever happen again to my people. The punishment must fit the crime, and so we have determined that the most fitting response would be to hold one more Hunger Games," she reads this entire declaration with her eyes glued to a piece of yellowed paper. Her face is plastered with a blank look and I am unable to read her expression. I hold my sister tighter to my chest, my fingers interlacing with hers as the final words are read out. The Mockingjay's eyes moving up to stare directly at the camera, at every Capitol child that is watching and every parent watching with them. Her eyes are hardened into a look that tells me she doesn't care, that she wants this to happen. She wants to destroy my people like she believes we tried to destroy hers. "The final Hunger Games, with the Capitol's children as tributes."

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**A/N: Hey everyone, I know, I know. You're all probably wondering why I am starting a new story when I am literally nowhere near finishing my others. I started this a few nights ago in a burst of random inspiration and I decided I liked the idea so I am going to see where I go with it.**

**This will NOT be updated regularly. My first priority will always be my SYOTs. I am just doing this when I am unable to write for my other stories due to lack of references (tribute forms, etc). **

**Anyway, what do you think of the story so far? No I have not really introduced the main character, nor her name. This was just the prologue. I will eventually be posting a blog with all the Capitol tributes and possibly my character's family as well, we'll just see how far this thing goes.**


	2. Don't Interfere

It has been two days since the President's declaration, and the Capitol has not calmed like she told everyone it would. Despite this, Father tells us that we do not have to wait in the back room any longer, and I have been holographic communicator to relay my best friend.

Terra answers on the second tone. Her face is pinched and red through her hologram as if she had been crying. I wonder for a moment how awful this all must be to make my best friend break her straight face. Then I remember and my heart breaks instantly; her youngest brother turned twelve last month.

She never cries, but I know she would cry for Adrian. He was hit by a transportation vehicle on the way home from classes when he was six and spent a month in the labs plus another in the Remake building to restore his broken body. There is no scarring on him, but he never was even a shadow of the happy kid I remember. He was always rather quiet but now he is somehow distanced as well. His eyes, violet like the rest of his family, don't have the comfortable warmth like his parents and older siblings. He doesn't go to school anymore. The doctors told her parents there was no use in sending him there for he would never learn and communicate with his peers. On top of all that he now has the chance of becoming a tribute. My best friend is crying because there is a chance, no matter how slim, that he will be dead in less than two weeks and there's nothing she or her parents can do about it. I can tell just by the look on her face that she's terrified for him.

I wish I could be like Terra. Terrified for the fate of someone I love but unafraid for myself. The truth is, I'm scared for my own life above anyone else's. I know Lisette is safe for she's merely eleven, and Alcander would never want me to fear for him. It would embarrass him far more than help him. The only person left then is myself. As selfish as it might be I just want to make it through this unscathed. I'm not self-sacrificing like Terra, brave like Alcander, or safe like Lisette. I just don't want to die for the revenge of Katniss Everdeen.

"So the Reaping is tomorrow," I hear myself say, avoiding looking at or even acknowledging the clear grief in front of me. One thing I know from being friends with Terra for so long is that I should not interfere. She's not the personal-pitying type. It's better just not to say anything than to risk saying something wrong. If she really needs to get something off her chest she can tell me herself and know that I will listen. That's what we do really, just be there for each other but don't get too stuck into the other's life. We're both very independent, if not a tad stubborn, but it works for now.

"Yeah," she says simply. I don't know why I even bothered to call her. Why am I even trying to make this seem normal when it's obviously not? The Capitol has never been involved with the Hunger Games by means of sending our own tributes. But now we are. It could be someone I know; Alcander, Terra, her brother... even _me. _

"I understand her," I hear the familiar voice break through the silent despair that lay between us. "I mean, I understand her reasons."

She doesn't even need to say a name, really, her words and the circumstance tell me that the "she" Terra speaks of is none other than Katniss Everdeen.

"I understand that she is a monster," I retort quickly with a sneer.

"No, I don't think she is really," Terra says to me but for some reason I feel as if she is only thinking aloud rather than forming conversation. "She wants revenge, my mother told me that that in one of the first interviews after the end of the Rebellion she said that her younger sister died in the bombing outside the Mansion. No one saw her die specifically but she was supposed to be in the team of nursing attendants that swarmed to help the hurt children. I think I understand why she hurts, and that is why she is doing this to us. "

"She just wants someone to blame for everything that happened and we're an easy scapegoat," I sneer.

"But are we totally innocent, Elsa?"

"We didn't bomb the nurses, Terra," I mutter, dishevelled that my friend could possibly feel any sympathy for the very person that is calling for the death of twenty-four of our people. The President had no choice but to enact the Hunger Games long ago. It was the only thinkable thing that could keep the district people in line and to stop another rebellion from quelling. "President Snow denied the whole thing in his final interview. It was her own people that killed her sister, not ours."

"They thought they had to-"

"Had to? They _had _to drop a load of bombs on a bunch of children?!" My voice has by now exceeded the careful whisper I had been trying to maintain so as not to wake my father or my siblings. I hit a button harshly to stop my own video feed so that I can calm myself down out of view of my friend. Terra must be able to hear my long drawn out breaths because she says nothing until I reconnect my feed.

"Who put the children there?" She whispers, pain registering on her face as she speaks the accusing words. Any words that may have come get lost in the air between us as my mouth hangs open. I have no counter for these words, it is no secret that the President and his council had called for the delivery of all children under eight years to his courtyard. It was supposed to be a method of protection. Those were the words that President Snow used to calm the distressed parents of the young children. It is also not unknown that more than one person had considered whether the protection was actually for the children, or for himself.

"I'm going to go now," Terra says finally. I nod lamely and watch her hologram fade from the now empty space in front of me. Things feel changed somehow. I no longer can take the side of the Capitol, my own people, so easily. The hundreds of bomb deaths were our fault at least as much as the district's, possibly even more. The President had been wrong. He had been scared when the rebels came to his home. He had been selfish to put an army of toddlers and children between the districts and himself. Maybe, because of him, we did deserve this punishment.

All these maybes, these newly thought of possibilities about the intentions of our great President play through my mind like a broken music player. The only thing that I am now certain of is that, no matter if her actions against us can be justified or not, Katniss Everdeen is a monster. A monster that, like the Hunger Games started by President Snow's ancestors, cannot be stopped until someone deals the first blow.

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**A/N: Alright, so this didn't take as long as I thought it might. I hope you are all starting to like this story, if not sorry? A bit more has been revealed about our main character, including her first name! Let me know how you think the story is progressing and if you have any suggestions as to what I can improve upon I would love to hear those as well!**

**-Olive**


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